


filled with poison but blessed with beauty and rage

by littlemartyr



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Unrequited Crush, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemartyr/pseuds/littlemartyr
Summary: He’d never seen someone talk to his father like that, it had sounded so foreign to him, so bizarre. And he was Kendall’s best friend! Roman couldn’t believe it for the life of him.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	filled with poison but blessed with beauty and rage

In all honesty, Roman fucking hated himself. He hated the way his brain worked, the way it would leap from thought to thought before he could ever fully process what he was thinking. When he was younger it had been so useful, “so cute!” as his parents’ guests would say. He adored it, he loved being loved, he loved being the center of the spotlight. He remembers when his teachers used to love him too, doting on him and his “imagination”, his “creativity”, and his never ending energy. These days it felt like he was some type of feral animal, running wild, meandering down a maze filled with harmful paths, each containing negative thoughts that stuck to him like Velcro. He could recognize the disdain on his parents faces, on the guests faces; the adoration felt like a lifetime ago.

School was the worst. Everyday he’d ride with Kendall and Stewy in the back of his dad’s sleek black Wagoneer, the two older boys snickering at something idotic while Roman fidgeted with his Motorola Startac, trying to look unbothered. The whole time however, a nauseating feeling was building in his stomach, his skin pricking with sweat and fingers shaking. By the time their driver wheeled into the Buckley parking lot, Roman would feel as if he was going to be physically sick. Most days he had to run to a bathroom before class, just to play it safe. He made the mistake of going straight to his Language Arts class once in eight grade, only to vomit all over his copy of Animal Farm and get sent to the nurse’s office. 

It wasn’t like he was unpopular, or bullied, or anything godawful like that. He was actually pretty popular, more popular than Kendall, and definitely more popular than Shiv (though she was only in fourth grade so Kendall said that didn’t count. Besides, it wasn’t like it was some kind of competition, it wasn’t supposed to be anyways). But he hated the way his teacher had looked at him since sixth grade, the disgust in their grimances as they’d pronounce his last name, “Roy”, off the attendance sheet everyday. He hated walking in on the first day, knowing that as much as they hated his brother, they were going to hate him so much more. He hated every detention slip, every suspension, and every failed test, the big red letter F scribbled on every single one of his sheets. He hated going home from school, especially on Report Card Days. And he hated the disappointment in his father’s eyes, he was young and he was stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize the growing resentment building up in Logan everytime he handed him the stiff sheet of paper.

He couldn’t really help it though. As much as he hated being unruly, being known as the teacher’s tormentor, the class clown, he couldn’t stop it. He wanted so badly to be good, or whatever Kendall was being at the very least. He couldn’t get his brain to physically work that way though, no matter how hard he tried. Besides, he needed the attention, and his good was never good enough to get him the amount he needed to live off. He’d do better, he promised himself, once he got to college. Nobody really cares about who you are in college anyways.

Roman wasn’t really jealous of Kendall, or how he was Dad’s favorite. He knew better, he knew Kendall thought he was so smart, so perfect, but in Roman’s eyes he was the most pathetic member of the family. Kendall was a bootlicker, an asskisser, the kind of scum you’d find on the bottom of your shoe and be too disgusted to even try to wipe it off. The kind of scum that made you throw the shoe in the fucking trash.

And it fucking showed, every kid at school knew what kind of person Kendall was. He was high on the social ranking, sure, but that was really thanks to Stewy. Without Stewy, Kendall would have been a fucking nobody, Kendall wouldn’t have been shit. Roman wasn’t actually sure if Kendall had any friends outside of Stewy, he certainly didn’t act like it. Roman only ever saw Kendall hang out with other kids if Stewy was there with him, the two were tied at the hip, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum if they were hormonal teenage boys. All Kendall ever talked about was something Stewy had said or done that was _soooo fucking funny,_ and Stewy was the only friend that Kendall had ever brought home.

But that last one didn’t matter, really. Roman had never brought any of his friends to his house, which he personally thought was just plain common sense. The first time Stewy had come home with them, the first time Kendall had leaned over to the driver and told him to keep driving when they reached Stewy’s place, Roman thought he had lost it. He had just turned ten and didn’t know much about best friends, but he knew you were never supposed to hurt them. And that’s what it felt like, hurt, their dad coming home to yell at them, the maids, anyone in his proximity. It was a type of hurt Roman was so familiar with he could make a home out of it, his brother and him already had.

The first time Logan had seen Stewy he had been in one of his terrible moods, something wrong with the stocks or his marriage or the papers, Roman could never remember what started them, just that they always seem to be ongoing. Roman could remember the way his father’s eyes had lit up when he saw Stewy, the way he had spat out a digusted, “who the _fuck_ is that?”.

Kendall’s ears had gone bright red and Roman could only sneer. Of course this was going to be his reaction, what the hell had Kendall been thinking? He was pretty sure that Stewy was the first brown kid that had stepped into Logan’s house who wasn’t like, directly working for him. And Stewy had made a terrible first impression anyways, sprawled over Logan’s loveseat, with his shoes perched on the loveseat’s arm, tracking dirt. 

Stewy had merely glanced up at Logan unfazed, and grinned. 

“Stewy Hosseini, it’s such a pleasure to meet you too sir,” his lips dripping with sarcasm, “Kendall’s told me so much about you, but honestly you look much less assholey in person.”

Roman had run out of the room at a speed he didn’t even realize he was capable of, just to break into hysterical laughter. He’d never seen someone talk to his father like that, it had sounded so foreign to him, so bizarre. And he was Kendall’s best friend! Kendall, Mr. Lil Perfect Son, was currently being shouted at a volume loud enough to shake the wine glasses left on the dining table, because his best friend had just called Logan an asshole. Roman couldn’t believe it for the life of him. He kinda could feel himself basking it in, the idea that their father wasn’t some all powerful god, that he was just a shitty person who could (and deserved) to be talked to like that.

His high came down shortly after, as he was walking past Kendall’s bedroom to get to his own.

“Shit shit fuck Ken, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t think he’d actu-”

“No dude, it's fine, it’s totally fine,” Kendall had sobbed out, “it’s my own fault, he doesn’t like people on his furniture, I should’ve just taken you straight to my room.”

“It’s not your fault dumbass, stop being a fucking moron,” Stewy had said gently, “It’s no one’s fault but his. I won’t let something like that happen to you ever happen to you again, okay?”

Roman had felt something tight twisting around his gut, the same feeling wrapping itself around his throat as well. He was frozen, his feet still stuck to the ground when Stewy tiptoed out of Kendall’s room. He was quiet, careful not to close the door too fast in fear of it making some type of noise. As soon as turned, he saw Roman, and his whole demeanor completely changed. He sauntered past him, winking and throwing Roman finger guns as he did. 

The next morning Kendall appeared at the breakfast table with a small dark bruise on his left cheekbone, laughing at something Stewy had said, who was trailing a few feet behind him. Roman was surprised Stewy had stayed the night, the fact Logan had allowed it, the fact Stewy was actually brave enough to, he wasn’t sure what was more shocking. 

“Ay dude, look at this sick bruise I gave your brother,” Stewy said, twisting in the dining chair, excitingly pointing at Kendall’s contusion, “pretty awesome right?”

“Nah I’ve given him worse,” Roman had smirked at him with a mouthful of pancakes, only to be met with Kendall’s middle finger.

He knew it wasn’t the truth, he knew where that bruise had come from, he just couldn’t believe Logan would do something like that in front of a guest. Shock aside, Roman just wished he had someone that cool to cover for him. Not that it mattered anyways, the teachers never batted an eye when Roman came to school with black eyes or battle wounds, it matched his reputation well enough. They should’ve caught on though, when Kendall started coming to school with them, although that was a pretty rare event. For people teaching the youth of American, they sure as hell weren’t that observant or intelligent. 

Stewy kept coming back to their house though, no matter how many times Logan yelled or how bad it got. And on the few rare occasions Logan did lay a finger on Kendall, Stewy was always more than happy to take the blame. And so, Stewy was a pretty cool motherfucker, at least in Roman’s book. 

He had been, for the last four years anyways. And now Roman was fourteen, entering his first year of high school, just as Kendall and Stewy were in their last. Stewy had really built up a reputation for himself in those four years, the cool guy, the class clown, the party animal. Most of it, Roman realized, was the same shit people had always said about him. It was alluring, seeing an older version of what Roman imagined himself to be, roaming the halls of their high school. Roman felt a small part of him drawn to it, drawn to figuring out how Stewy worked, how his brain ticked.

_Is he fucked up like me? Does he fail all his fucking classes like me? Does he hate coming home like me? Is he his home life anything like mine, is that why he’s always so unafraid of us?_

Roman tried, he really really tried making friends with Stewy. He’d often barged into Kendall’s room, mid-smoke sesh, grinning like manic.

“What up motherfuckers?” he laughed, skipping over to the two of them.

“Fuck off Rome,” Kendall would growl, usually throwing shit at Roman until he was finally discouraged enough to leave, Stewy’s laughter echoing in his ears as he did.

It was a waste of time. Roman could make friends easily, effortlessly, his teachers might have hated him but the boys at his school worshipped him. If one stupid senior didn’t like him, what did it matter?

It mattered. It mattered _so_ much to Roman and he had no idea why.

It wasn’t before the end of ninth grade until he even had a fathom of why he wanted Stewy to like him so bad. The ninth graders got to go on some lavish week long camping trip as their field trip that year and a few seniors had been selected to be supervisors for the trip. Stewy, the star student that he was, ended up being one of the few.

Stewy, dispute his reputation, was actually a star student. He was at the top of his class, his teachers loved him, the class loved him. Everybody fucking loved Stewy, and Roman could never wrap his head around as to why. He wasn’t bothered by it exactly, he just wanted to know how it was even possible to be so damn charismatic. 

There was also a rumor floating around, small whisperings that Stewy might be gay. Most people at their school had laughed at this, replying that some envious faggot it made it up, that the few gays at their school fucking _wished_ Stewy was one of them. No way, they said, Stewy was super straight.

Roman saw the way Stewy looked at his brother, he wasn’t so sure.

He’d found out on the camping trip, scuffing his feet against the gross dirt ground, drawing circles in it.

“Hey,” Stewy called out to Roman, a small smirk on his face, “you’re cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Roman had laughed, “cooler than Kendall anyways, and you put up with him.”

Stewy had chuckled, wrapping his arm around Roman, sending a shiver down his spine, “Fair enough little guy, come with me.”

Stewy had led Roman out to the middle of the woods, setting off a few alarms in his head. _This is it, oh my god this is it. I’m gonna be murdered by Kendall’s stupidly cool friend and possible secret lover. What the fuck._

His thoughts finally quieted a little when Stewy stopped, settling on a tree stump, smiling up at Roman.

“Here,” he offered, a blunt balanced delicately between his fingers.

“Oh shit, seriously?”, Roman said gleefully, taking the blunt a bit too enthusiastically, “thanks dude.”

“Yeah no problem,” Stewy had laughed, pulling out a lighter, “sucks getting high alone.”

Stewy had only brought a few to the camping trip, and was using them sparingly, so he and Roman made due with the one he had brought. It was nice hanging out with Stewy, he was shaking as he passed the blunt to Roman, a giggling writhing mess of flesh. Roman was shaking too, partly from laughter, partly from nerves. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was nervous, he’d never let the fear of offending someone stop him from saying anything before.

“Dude please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re one of the good gays.” He giggled as he took the joint from Stewy’s fingertips.

He smiled at Roman, smoke wafting in the air. “No it’s okay, some of us are real faggots.”

He went on, starting to name other boys who liked boys in his grade and how they were too effeminate, or too flamboyant, or just obnoxious and Roman wishes he had never said anything because this isn’t how he thought he’d respond, this isn’t how he wanted him to respond.

He wanted Stewy to get angry at him, he wanted him to hate Roman, to deny it, he wasn’t sure why.

The conversation switches to something else, and they both laugh again. They’re laughing by the time they make it back to camp and sit down at the campfire that the supervisors like Stewy were supposed to have built. Roman notices how the campfire’s glow emits from behind Stewy, painting a blinding outline against his dark skin. A warm sickly feeling crawls into his stomach and stays there for the rest of the night.

Roman hates himself, he hates his brain and how it works. He hates that he knows exactly what the warm sickly feeling in his stomach is called, even if he’ll never say it outloud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, comments and criticism are always welcome! :)


End file.
